Contained Constant Chaos
by vmreed
Summary: “Please don’t kill me.” He said, stupidly. She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, but offering him a box of tampons.


Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 or any of its characters. This work is just for fun, and will not receive any financial gain.

Assigned Tropes: Post-Apocalypse AU, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, "You're an asshole to everybody else, but you're nice to me"

\--

John remembered playing knights in gym class when he was little. His best friend, Clarke, always thought it was stupid, and would proceed to plop down in the corner and refuse to play.

But he loved the thrill.

The coach brought in wooden swords and shields every week, and his next-door-neighbor, Miller, always beat him to the best one, they would wrestle until one of them drew too much attention and they were separated. But at the end of class, they always hugged it out. Miller would apologize, blaming testosterone, and John would ask him what that was, but he would just laugh and clap him on the back and saunter away.

Miller was dead now.

John found his body lying under a few hunks of concrete in his own kitchen.

He spent the next week searching for someone, anyone. His parents were nowhere to be found and every house in the neighborhood had either been ripped to shreds or wiped clean of human life at all.

Over the next few days he made his way to the city while checking every last bush for a face. By the fifth day, he'd almost given up hope. That is, until, he stumbled upon a dark-haired woman in a convenience store ripping apart a box of chocolate.

He didn't say anything, but she must have heard him breathing because she whipped around to face him.

He didn't know what he expected of the first living person he'd seen in days, but it wasn't this.

Her face was stretched like a mask over her bones, her hand wrapped with several maxi pads taped together, and it looked like her hair might've been in a braid before half of it was ripped out.

He couldn't say he looked much better.

In true Murphy fashion, the first thing he said was completely idiotic.

"Your family dead too?"

She had a paring knife to his throat in seconds.

"Who are you?" She growled, pushing him against the wall and letting a drop of his black blood escape.

Ignoring the tiny knife, he held out his hand. "John Murphy. You?"

She must've figured out that he was completely incompetent, because she removed the knife slowly, almost unconsciously. "Lexa," she said simply.

It was then when he heard the footsteps. Lexa dropped into what he assumed was an attack crouch, but he was too excited at the prospect of another human to use his brain.

The echoes of shoes on pavement grew louder as a girl who must've been his age with short blonde hair and...wait.

"Lex, I grabbed the peroxide and some Ben and…oh. Hey John." Clarke said.

He didn't waste any time smushing her against his chest fiercely.

"Thank God you're okay Princess," He said. It was all he could say with a led tongue, falling back on old childish nicknames.

She threw her head back and laughed deeply. "Can't get rid of me that easy, Roach," she said, seeming to indulge in the same habit as him.

The nicknames stemmed from an embarrassing incident of Clarke throwing a fit that her dress was dirty, while she was disgusted with his mud-ridden appearance.

She was nice enough to pretend not to notice the tears freely spilling down his face as she pulled a very confused Lexa into their group hug.

Clarke was his last scrap of normal, his family, and he'd be damned if he lost her again.

\--

Clarke filled him in on her adventure. It turned out that she ran into a few psychos who were using the end of the world as a way to try and murder every other living person. Lexa had taken care of her, using her trusty knife to cut them to ribbons.

From then on, the two spent their time hunting for other non-hostile survivors.

He was the only one they'd found.

They spent their days raiding stores and had (in his opinion) used way too many maxi pads as bandages. The few people they came across were trying to kill them, so they weren't too friendly. Others might take it as a shock then, that the two who weren't standing guard outside the tent on that particular night slept wrapped up together. (He was pretty sure Clarke and Lexa did more than cuddle, though).

It was easy with Clarke because he had known her since childhood, and they all needed some human contact. Lexa was a surprise, though. For all their distance, she was the third in their tiny little family. He also thought it relaxed her. Out there, she had to be the strong capable leader, but here, she could be the scared teenager she was.

It was another normal day, another abandoned drugstore. Clarke was getting more beans and soup from the grocery store and Lexa was guarding the camp. That left him with the rather unfortunate job of restocking their supply of feminine products. He almost jumped at the figure who seemingly came out of nowhere standing next to him.

The bored look she gave him indicated she'd been there for awhile, waiting for him to notice.

He could not for the life of him think of a thing to say. She looked remarkably put-together for the end of the world, her tan skin practically glowed, and her piercing look was only accentuated by her long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail.

"Please don't kill me." He said, stupidly.

She raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, but offering him a box of tampons.

He had no idea how they ended up on the floor, splitting Airheads and stale Kit Kats, and talking about life. Apparently, her name was Raven.

He thought that was a pretty name.

"So you're on your own?" He asked, tilting his head to face her.

She shrugged, "Nothing I'm not used to."

It had only been four months since the apocalypse started, but he didn't think he would've survived five days without Clarke and Lex.

"Got anywhere to be after this?" He asked, smiling.

Her answering grin was almost maniacal.

\--

To say Lex was hostile was an understatement.

"What the fuck were you thinking, J? She could kill us in our sleep!" Lex said, gesticulating wildly with her tiny knife. Honestly, if she weren't a lesbian and basically dating his little sister, he'd be pretty turned on. He had always loved powerful women.

"Like you would be so lucky." Raven replied, practically growling.

He was wrong. This was the end of the world.

Lex leaped at her, and only Clarke hearing the ruckus saved Raven from an untimely demise.

"Lex, what the hell?" She grunted as she yanked her girlfriend back.

"Guys, this is Raven," he said.

\--

Things calmed down eventually, but Raven was still heartless to pretty much everything she came across. He recalled one instance where she spent ten minutes telling a squirrel how worthless it was.

The snow started falling, so he assumed it was near enough to his birthday, so now they sat gathered around a fire, bundled up in ill-fitting winter wear that had been the last things left at an abandoned Old Navy.

"To J," Clarke began, lifting her flask high in the air, "He brought us together, and thanks to him, we're not alone anymore." As she finished, she took a long swig of the cheap beer they had.

Lex was next. "To J, the boy who laughs in the face of danger and is so idiotic it makes you want to split his skull,"

After a hearty round of laughter, the girls gave Raven a meaningful look, to which she glared.

"You expect me to say something?" She asked, "Unlike you, I'm just along for the ride. Don't expect any sappy nonsense from me."

Clarke and Lex laughed at that, but he looked at Raven as she turned toward him. She met his eyes, and the mask was ripped off. He almost gasped from the stark contrast of it.

He supposed he never noticed the anger and edge burned into her face, but as it faded away, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

It didn't last long, probably only a fraction of a second, before she snapped her eyes away and carved herself back into her anger.

His gaze lingered, though.

It always did.

\--

The small human they stumbled upon was ruthless. Clarke, in all her princessy goodness, instantly trusted the girl.

That was a bad decision.

They took her back to camp, fed her, cleaned her, and clothed her, all while she refused to speak.

He was on watch that night while Clarke, Lex, and a reluctant Raven cuddled. (She had initially refused the idea, calling them soft. She changed her mind when the snows hit).

There was a rustling and the girl exited the tent, moving to stand in front of him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, "Do you need-Ah!"

He felt the breath leave his lungs as Lex's trusty paring knife sliced through his palm. Her grip was sure to leave bruises, but before he could utter a word of protest, she lifted his hand close to his face.

"Natblida," she said, in awe. He didn't recognize the word, but it sounded like part of the Natives' language.

"Yeah," he began, confusedly, "I'm type K," She looked at him, and he knew she didn't understand a word he said. The noise must've woken Lex though, because she stumbled sleepily out of the tent.

The girl turned to her, "Natblida," she said, pointing to him. She sliced her own palm open, showing Lex the black blood flowing from the wound, "Natblida!" She exclaimed.

That definitely woke Clarke and Raven, and the second they ran out of the tent, the girl had cut them too, seeming proud as more K-type blood spilled.

"Natblida! Natblida!" She chanted.

He, Clarke, and Raven looked at her in distrust and bafflement, but Lex kneeled before her, gently retrieving the knife and cutting her own palm.

She dipped two fingers into the wound, spreading black blood on her face in a purposeful pattern. "Natblida," she said, as if both reassuring and consoling the girl.

\--

Lex and Clarke were tending to the girl and their own wounds, which left John to patch Raven up.

"Do you have any idea what that was?" She asked him, the sharpness of her features dulling a bit with each moment that passed.

"Well, Lex is part Native, so maybe she knew what the girl was talking about, but I have no idea," he said as he tied a maxi pad to her gash, "It is kind of weird that we're all type K, though,"

She hummed in response, picking up the peroxide bottle and pouring it over his cut.

"Sorry," she said at his hiss, "but we don't want it to get infected,"

"It's fine," he said, before realizing that Raven had just _apologized_. To _him_.

He stole another look at her from under his bangs as she lathered the wound with Neosporin. If he thought her face at the campfire looked soft, then this was ten times so. She almost looked...happy.

Without thinking, he said "Why are you so nice to me?"

Her edges floated back in as she tied the maxi pad tighter than necessary, "I'm not," she said decisively.

\--

"Where the hell are my boots?" Lexa asked, interrupting his carving with no preamble.

"Well hello to you too, Lex. How are you doing on this fine day?" he replied.

"Oh fuck off J, you know what I'm talking about," she spat.

"Now is as good a time as any," he said, standing up and dusting off his hands. "Alright everybody," he yelled, addressing the rest of the group who were assigning rations, "Follow me."

After the group had begrudgingly allowed him to escort them to the frozen lake they had discovered yesterday after setting up camp, he tossed them each the pair of shoes he'd stolen, now with a blade affixed to each sole.

"Care to explain, Roach?" Clarke asked, eyeing her black snow boots that now had what looked to be half a cleaver attached.

Lex's face morphed into a mix of fear and anger, "Don't tell me-"

"Don't worry Lex," he began, pulling her tiny knife out of his pocket, "I wouldn't dare."

She viciously yanked it out of his hands and started caressing it. It was scarily similar to Gollum.

Twenty minutes later, Clarke and Lexa were dancing around the girl on the ice, while he had dragged Raven out to the middle of the lake.

"John! She squealed, as he lifted her up and spun her, "Put me down!" She laughed.

He finally relented, noticing the soft face she was wearing today. When the laughter had ceased, their faces were inches apart. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and hers did the same.

The moment was killed by her falling straight through the ice.

\--

Getting her out was easier than he thought, and soon she was dry and back at camp.

Clarke was on watch that night, and Lex had taken the girl (Madi, he remembered. Lex's broken Trigedasleng was good enough to get a name) on some sort of spirit night hunting trip.

That left him and Raven to awkwardly cuddle or face the winter chill. He felt his chest constrict at the contact. Sleepily, he nuzzled into her neck, leaving a ghost of a kiss there.

He was expecting a slap, a shove, or anything remotely different than what she did.

She hummed contentedly and kissed his nose.

The apocalypse had taught him one thing, if nothing else.

Live every day as if it were your last.

And he kissed her.

He didn't know what horrors tomorrow may bring, or what lonely kid they'd pick up next, but he did know two things.

She kissed him back with fervor, and God, he loved her.

**A/N**

**Thanks so much for reading! I was thinking of writing an epilogue that explains what's happened ten years later. Is that something you'd be interested in?**

**To the intended recipient: Thanks so much for the interesting tropes! This was so fun to write!**

**@probably-voldemort: Thanks for inspiring me to get up off my ass and write something! **

**Have a wonderful day!**


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